Everyone loves a Rogue
by tiggie
Summary: He was a Prince thoroughly changed from the war of the ring seeking comfort and to fulfil his duties; she was a wounded elf maiden condemming herself to a life of soltitude and loneliness. Can they help eachother find what they are seeking? Can they find
1. Default Chapter

Rivendell's Gardens were decked out in all the splendor of a May morning. Sunlight beamed down from a clear blue sky and twinkled off a million dewdrops giving a fresh, newly washed appearance to trees and grass. It was a perfect setting for the customary promenades along the fashionable Royal Row. It was perfect.

Perfect, except for one discordant detail. In the middle of an open stretch of grass well within sight of the Royal house, some sort of commotion was rapidly drawing a crowd of the curious. That it was a fight became quickly evident. Not a duel – there were four participants instead of two and the morning was far too well advanced – but an indecorous outbreak of fisticuffs.

Gentlemen and a few ladies too rode closer to see what was transpiring. Many of the gentlemen stayed to watch the progress of the fight, their interest in the morning considerably piqued. A few, those unfortunate enough to be escorting ladies were obliged to ride hastily onward since it was most certainly not a genteel sight for female eyes. Some pedestrians too approached the scene along the path that ran close by and either hurried past or drew closer, depending largely upon the gender.

" Scandalous!" one haughty male voice declared above the hubbub of the crowd gathered about the empty square in which the brawl was proceeding apace. "Someone ought to summon a sentinel. Riffraff should not be allowed into the garden to offend the sensibilities of decent folk."

But although the shabby garments and generally grubby, unkempt appearance of three of the participants in the fight proclaimed them to be undoubtedly of the vary lowed classes, the elegant though scant clothing and general bearing of the fourth told an entirely different story.

" It is Greenleaf, sir," Lord Elaniel explained to the outraged Sir Lolwen.

The name was apparently explanation enough. Sir Lowlen raised a quizzing glass to his eye and from the vantagepoint on horseback peered through it over the heads of those on foot at Prince Legolas Greenleaf, who was stripped to the waist and at that particular moment was having much the worst of the encounter. He had an assailant clamped on each arm while the third pummeled him with hearty enthusiasm in the stomach.

"Scandalous!" Lord Lowlen declared again, while all about him gentlemen cheered or jeered, and two of the three were engaged in laying wagers upon the outcome of such a seemingly unequal contest. " I did not believe I would live to see even Greenleaf stoop as low as to brawl with riffraff."

"Shame!" someone else called as the red-haired giant who was doing the pummeling changed the direction of his assault and planted a fist in his victims undefended right eye, snapping his neck back in the process. " Three against one is no fair odds."

" But he would not accept our assistance," Lord Malfreeigh protested with some indignation. " He made the challenge – and insisted that three against one suited him admirably."

" Greenleaf challenged riffraff?" Lowlen asked with considerable disdain.

" They dared to be insolent after he rebuked them for accosting a milkmaid" Lord Elaniel explained. " But he would not simply chastise them with his whip as the rest of us suggested. He insisted --- oh I say!"

This exclamation was occasioned by Greenleaf, heir to Eryn Lasgalen's response to the punch in the eye. He laughed an incongruously merry sound, and suddenly lashed out neatly with one slim leg and caught his unwary assailant beneath the chin with the toe of his boot. There was a loud cracking of bone and clacking teeth. At the same moment he took advantage of the astonishment of the two who held his arms and twisted free of them. He spun around to face them in a half crouch, his arms outstretched, his finger beckoning. He was grinning.

" Come on, you buggers," he invited profanely. " Or do the odds suddenly appear less to your advantage?"

The opponent whose jaw had just been shattered might have thought so. But although his eyes were open, he appeared more intent upon counting stars wheeling in the morning sky than considering odds.

There was a roar of appreciation from the ever-growing crowd of spectators.

Legolas Greenleaf showed to far better advantage without his tunic than with it. A gentleman of slender grace, he had doubtless appeared an easy mark to the three thugs who had taken him on with a collective smirk of insolent contempt a few minutes before. But the slim legs encased in fashionable breeches and boots, showed themselves to be impressively well muscled now that he had descended from the back of his horse. And his naked chest, shoulders, and arms were those of an elf who had exercised and hones his body to its fullest potential. The white seams of numerous scars on his forearms and chest proclaimed the fact, as his clothes did not, that at one time he had been a military elf.

" Atrocious language to use in a public place," Lowlen remarked disdainfully. " And an unseemly display of flesh, and all over a milkmaid you say? Greenleaf is a disgrace to his name. I pity his father."

But no one, not even Lord Elaniel, to whom his remarks were addressed, was paying him any attention. Two of the bullies who had thought to amuse themselves by coaxing unwilling kisses from an unaccompanied milk maid in the park were taking turns rushing at the Prince, who was laughing at repulsing them with his jabbing fist every time they came within range. Those who knew him were well aware that he spend a few hours of most days at the ranges, sparring with partners far his superior in weight.

" Sooner or later," he said conversationally, " you are going to put together your two half-brains to make one whole and realize that you would stand a far better chance against me if you attacked simultaneously."

Victory came easily and swiftly.

But the morning had one more incident of interest to offer – both for him and the cheering spectators. The milkmaid who had been the unwitting cause of the fracas came hurtling across the grass toward him – the crowd parted obligingly to let her through – flung her arms about his neck, and pressed her person against his.

" Oh thank you, thank you, your worship," she cried fervently, " for saving a girls virtue. I'm a good girl, I am, and they would of stole a kiss or p'raps worse if you 'and't 'appened along to save me. But I'll kiss you, I will. For a reward, being as you earned it an' all."

She was plump and shapely and ruddily pretty and drew shrill whistles and admiring, bawdy comments from the spectators. Prince Legolas grinned at her before dipping his head and availing himself of her offer with a lingering thoroughness. He tossed her a half sovereign along with a wink from his good eye when he was finished, and assured her that she was indeed a good girl.


	2. The Lady Chapter 2

" I cannot tell you." The Lady of Erwenor had been saying to her niece a few minutes earlier, " what a delight it is to have your company, Cealia. My marriage is proving more of a joy than I ever expected, and Luthenial is remarkably attentive, even now that I am in expectation of an interesting event. But he cannot live in my pocket all the time, the poor dear. We were both pleased beyond words when you accepted our invitation to stay with us until after my confinement."

The lady Cealia of Eruvenor smile. " We both known," she said, "that you are doing me a far greater favor than I can possibly be doing you Erial. Eruvenor had become intolerable to me."

She had been in Rivendell two weeks, but neither she nor Erial had touched upon the underlying reason for her being here until now. Erial's supposed need for Cealia's company while she waited the birth of her first elfling two months hence had been merely a convenient excuse. Of course it had.

"Life does go on, Cealia," Erial said at alst. "But I will not belittle your grief by enlarging upon that theme. It would be insensitive of me, especially when I have never experienced anything to compare with what you have suffered – and when I have finally found my own happiness. Though that fact in itself may be of some reassurance to you. I was all of four thousand when I married Luthenial last autumn."

Luthenial of Erwenor was indeed attentive to his wife, with whom he was clearly deeply in love. Cealia smiled her acknowledgement of the words of intended comfort. They strolled onward through the park, as they had done each morning since Cealia's arrival, except for the three days when it had rained. The broad, grassy expanse on either side of the path looked enticingly and deceptively rural despite the frequent glimpses they afforded of other pedestrians and riders.

They were approaching the stretch of garden in front of the home of Elrond, notoriously referred to has Royal Row, the very one that Cealia had shrunk in some alarm the first time Erial had suggested they walk there two weeks before. The morning gathering was nothing like the crush of the fashionable afternoon promenade in the park, it was true, but even so there were too many people to see and – more significant--- to be seen by. She had thought she would never find the courage to face the beau monde after the fiasco of last year.

Last year half the noble elves of middle earth had gathered at Eruvenor in the southern part of Middle Earth to celebrate the wedding of Cealia to the Lord Oropei. There had been a grand wedding eve ball, at which Cealia thought it was impossible to feel any happier – and how horribly prophetic that thought had proved to be! And then there had been the wedding itself at the center of the village, which had been full of the elves of high standing – a wedding that had been interrupted just as Cealia was to step out of a small cottage into the view of all present, by the sudden appearance of the wife Oropei had thought long dead and of whose very existence Cealia and his whole family had been totally unaware.

Celia had come to Imladris this spring because she could no longer bear to be living at the house of Eruvenor with Oropei's family, and Oropei and his wife. Unfortunately there had been few avenues of escape. She had grown up at Eruvenor with Oropei and his sister Leilean after her grandmother had passed over the sea to Valinor; Her mother had left on a trip and had never returned millennia before. She had read Erials letter of invitation, then, with enormous gratitude. But she had come to the assumption that since Erial was now increasing, they would not be taking part in any of the social activities of the Season. She was right about that, but Erial did like to take the air.

"Oh, goodness," she said suddenly as they topped a slight rise in the path and came within sigh of Royal Row, "I wonder what the reason is for that crowd. I do hope no one has been taken ill. Or been thrown from a horse."

There was indeed a large gathering of horses and elves on the grass beside the path, directly on their route to the Row. They were mostly gentlemen, it appeared to Cealia. But if someone had indeed been hurt, the presence of ladies might be welcome. Ladies could be far more practical in emergencies than gentlemen. They both increased their pace.

"How absurd of me," Erial said, "to be remembering that Luthenial went out riding this morning. Do you suppose…"

"Indeed I do not," Cealia said firmly. "And I do not even believe there has been any accident. They are cheering."

"Oh, dear." She touched Cealia's arm to slow her down again and sounded suddenly on the verge of laughter. " I do believe we have stumbled upon a fight Cealia. I think we must walk on past as if we had not noticed nothing untoward."

"A fight?" Cealia's eyes widened. "In such a public place? In broad daylight? Surely not."

But indeed Erial was quite right. When they drew closer Cealia confirmed it with her own eyes before she could avert them and hurry decently by. Although the crowd of men and horses was really quite dense, one of those inexplicable gaps appeared for a moment, allowing her a view of what was happening in the hollow center of the square. A shockingly clear view.

There were three men there, although she thought there might have been a fourth too, stretched out on the grass. Two of them were dressed decently, if shabbily, in the clothing of laboring men. But it was upon the third that Cealia's eyes riveted themselves for a few startled moments. He was crouched ready for action and was apparently taunting the other two by beckoning with both hands. But it was not his actions that startled her as much as his state of dress, or rather his state of undress. His supple top boots and his form-fitting buff riding breeches proclaimed him to be a gentleman. But above the waist he was quite, quite naked. And very splendidly and alarmingly male.

Before she looked sharply away in blushing confusion, she became aware of two other details, one visual and one aural. He was fair-haired and handsome and laughing. And the words he spoke to accompany the beckoning hands fell unmistakably upon her ears despite the hubbub of voices proceeding from the many spectators.

"Come on you buggers," he said without any apparent shame at all.

She hoped fervently, even as she felt the uncomfortable heat of a blush spread upon her neck to blossom brightly in both cheeks, that Erial had not heard the words – or seen the half-naked man who had uttered them. Rarely had she felt such embarrassment.

But Erial was laughing with what sounded like genuine amusement. " Poor Lord Erestor," she said " He looks as if he might have an apoplexy at any moment. I wonder why he does not simply ride on by and leave the children to their play. Men can be such foolish creatures, Cealia. Even the slightest disagreement must be settled with fists."

"Erial," Cealia said, truly scandalized, "did you see…? And did you hear…?"

" How could I not?" Erial was still chuckling.

But before either of them could say more, they were distracted by the appearance of a tall, dark, handsome young man, who stepped onto the path before them, bowed with hasty elegance and offered an arm to each of them.

"Erial," he said, "Cealia. Goodmorning. And what a lovely morning it is too. It bids fair to being unseasonably warm later today. Allow me to escort you to Royal Row and earn the envy of every other gentleman there."

Lord Elaniel had been one of the spectators of the fight, Cealia realized, but had seen them and had come to hurry them away. She took his arm gratefully. Actually, she thought, hearing the echo of his words, it was probable that there were no other gentlemen on Royal Row. Surely they were all clustered about the brawling men.

" How provoking it is sometimes to be a lady." Erial said, taking his other arm. " I suppose if I were to ask you who that gentleman is who is fighting and why he is doing so, you would not answer me?"

He grinned down at her, "What fight?" he asked.

Erial sighed. "As I thought," she said.

"For my part," Cealia assured him fervently, " I have no wish to know." She was still flushed at the memory of the gentleman fighter, naked from the waist up, and of his words – come on you buggers.

Lord Elaniel turned his head to look down at her, a twinkle in his eye.

The walked, and despite herself, Cealia looked back over her shoulder. She had heard a loud cheer a moment before. The fight was over. The crowd had parted along her line of vision, and she could see that the gentleman with the naked torso was still on his feet. But if she had been shocked before, she was doubly horrified now. He had a woman in his arms—his were right about her waist and hers were wrapped about his neck—and he was kissing her. In full view of a few dozen spectators.

  
He lifted his head just as Cealia looked, and in the fraction of a second before she could whip her head about to face front again, his laughing eyes met hers.

Her cheeks were on fire again.


	3. The Wager Chapter 3

Just wanted to say quick thank you for all the reviews. I appreciate them so much! Feel free to email me if you like at hotshotslilhottie@yahoo.com 

I'm going to try and post something daily, or every few days depending on what my work schedeule is.

Thanks.

"You are looking thoroughly blue-deviled, Greenleaf," Elladan commented later the following night, crossing the room to the sideboard to replenishing the contents of his glass before resuming his seat. "Foxed, are you? Or is it the eye? It has turned marvelous shades of black, purple, and yellow. Not to mention the bright scarlet slit through which you are peering out at the world."

" I tell you, Greenleaf," Elrohir, Elladan's twin brother added, " I could scarce swallow the kidneys on my plate this morning for looking at that eye – or do I mean yesterday morning?"

"If I could just be sure," Lord Lowlen said, "that this mantel would stay upright when I push away from it, I would pour myself another drink. What the devil time is it?"

" I'd venture, its half past four, nearing dawn." Elladan responded glancing outside onto the balcony.

" The devil!" Lowlen exclaimed. "Where has the night gone?"

" Where all nights go." Elrohir yawned. "Let's see – I believe Elladan and I started the evening meeting with the March Warden from Lothlorien. A deuced flat affair, where Rumil relayed a heartfelt message from granddad. What was it about Elladan? Oh yes, about the company we keep, and the nasty tendency of rakish reputations have of rubbing off on a fellow's companions. It seems we ought to stay away from you, Greenleaf, if we know whats good for us."

AUTHORS NOTE: Offcourse Lord Celeborn holds Legolas in high regards because of his role in the War of the Ring and for being one of the nine walkers, but this 'mood' change on his regards is because of the 'new personality' Legolas develops after the war and his travels with Gimli are over. In short, I'm altering things to fit my ideas. Sorry! 

His friends shared the joke by roaring with hearty mirth. All except Legolas, that was, who was sprawled with casual elegance in a deep chair beside the fireplace in his guest rooms in the home of Elladan and Elrohir, gazing vacantly with his one healthy eye into the unlit coals.

" You won't have to put up with my wicked influence for much longer," he said. "I've been summoned to Mirkwood."

Elladan sipped his drink. " By your father? Thranduil himself? He asked, " A summons, Legolas?"

" A summons." He nodded slowly. " There is to be a grand house party this summer in honor of the seventy fifth thousand birthday of my grandmother."

"An old dragon, is she, Legolas?" Lowlen asked sympathetically. " Do you suppose the mantel would collapse if I stopped holding it up?"

" You are three sheets to the wind old chap," Elrohir informed him. " It's your legs, not the mantel."

"I have always had a soft spot for the old girl, you see," Legolas said, "and my father knows it. Oh, for God's sake, Lowlen, just look down into your glass, will you? It is still half full."

Lord Lowlen looked with pleased astonishment at the glass in his hand and drained off its contents. "What I really need," he said, "is my bed. If my legs would just carry me there."

"Egad," Legolas said, his gloomy stare back on the unlit fire. " What I really need is a bride."

"Go to bed" Elrohir advised him hastily, "and sleep it off. The feeling will go away by morning—guaranteed."

"My father's birthday gift to my grandmother is to be the bethrothal of his heir." Legolas said.

"Oh, I say! You are the heir"

"Jolly rotten luck, old chap."

Elrohir and Elladan spoke simultaneously.

" A pox on all fathers!" Elladan continued indignantly, thankful his father never had such ideas. " Does he have someone picked out for you?"

Legolas laughed and draped his hands over the arms of his chair. " Oh, yes, indeed." He said. "Along with everything else, I am to inherit my late elder brothers betrothed."

" Who the devil is she?" Lowlen forgot his inebriated state sufficiently to straighten up unassisted.

"Nineila." Legolas said.

" Nineila?" Elladan asked.

" I have obliged my father by withdrawing myself from travelling," Legolas said. "I'll oblige him by going back to Greenwood after almost three years. I'll even oblige him on the matter of the birthday gift. But, I will do it on my own terms. I'll take with me a bride of my own choosing, and I'll be married to her before I go so that there will be nothing he can do about it. I have been sorely tempted to pick some vulgar creature, but that would not do. It is just the sort of thing he would expect of me. I'll choose someone above reproach instead. That will gall him more than anything else because he won't be able to complain about her. She is going to be dull, respectable, prim and perfect." He spoke with grim satisfaction.

For a moment his friends regarded him in fascinated silence. Then Lord Elladan threw back his head and laughed. " You are going to marry a dull, respectable woman, Greenleaf?"he asked, "just to spite your father?" 

"Not wise old chap," Lord Lowlen said, treading a determinedly straight path toward the sideboard. ""You would be the one married to the woman for life, not your father. You would find such a wife insupportable, take my word on it. The vulgar wench might afford you more amusement."

" But the thing is, that one has to marry sometime," Greenleaf explained, cupping one hand over his aching eye for a moment. "Especially when the death of one's older brother has made one the reluctant heir to a kingdom and vast last and fortune to boot. One has to do one's duty and set up one's nursery and all that. Who better to do it with than a quiet, dull, worthy woman who will run one's home competently and without fuss and will dutifully present one with an heir and a few spares?"

"But there is a very real obstacle to such a scheme, Greenleaf ." Elrohir was frowning when he spoke the words, but he grinned and then chuckled outright before continuing. "What respectable woman would have you? You are a handsome enough devil, it is true, or so I understand from the way females look at you. And of course you have your present title and your future prospects. But you have established an impressively notorious reputation as a rakehell since you returned from Gondor."

"And that would be stating it mildly," Elladan muttered into his glass.

"As bad as that , is it? What a devilish stuffy world we live in," Legolas commented. "But egad, I am serious about this. And I am Thranduils heir. That fact alone will outweigh all else when it is perceived that I am shopping in earnest for a wife."

"True enough," Lowlen admitting seating himself on an upright chair after refilling his glass. "But not necessarily the sort of wife you are looking for, old chap. Parents with lofty principles and daughters to match steer clear of gentlemen who mill with foul-smelling laborers within sight of Royal Row and then kiss milkmaids without their shirts on for all the world to witness. And men who on a wager ride along the main road in Minas Tirith past all the men and women, with a painted doxy squeezed infront of them. And men whose names appear in all the betting books in connection with every disreputable and outrageous dare anyone cares to wager on."

"Who are the possibilities?" Legolas asked, ignoring this dire prediction and returning his attention to the coals in the fireplace. "There must be hordes of new arrivals in town now that the Season has begun in earnest. Hordes of hopeful maidens come shopping for husbands. Who is the dullest, most prudish, most straitlaced, most respectable of them all? You fellows will know better than I. You all attend the evens of the other noble elves."

His companions gave the matter serious thought. Each threw out a few names, all of which were rejected out of hand by the others for a variety of reasons.

" There is Miss Cealia of Eurevnor." Elladan repeated at last, when they appeared to have run out of suggestions." But she is too long in the tooth."

" Miss Cealia?" Lowlen repeated, " Of Eurevnor? The lord Oropeis abandoned bride? Lord, my sister was at that wedding. It was the sensation of last year. The bridegroom waiting waiting, the bride on the porch of the village cottage waiting to make her grand entrance. And then the arrival of a ragged woman claiming to be Oropei's long lost wife – and telling nothing short of the truth, by gad. The Cealia chit fled from the area as if the hounds of Sauron were at her heels, according to Awenim, who is not normally prone to exageration. Is she in Imladris?"

" I had heard she was here." Elladan admitted. " But she doesn't go about much, does she. Her family is keeping her in tight watch. I daresay they are all trying to get her married off quietly—and respectably." He snickered. " She is doubtless dull enough to set one to y awning at the mere thought of her. You don't want her, Greenleaf."

"Besides" Lowlen added with what proved to be the fatal challenge, " you would not get her even if you did want her, Greenleaf. Her family would not allow someone of your reputation within hailing distance of her. And even if you did slip past their guard, she would give you the cut direct. Turn you into an icicle on the spot, I daresay. You are just the sort none of them would want for her, least of all the lady herself. We will have to think of someone else for you. Though why you would want –"

But Legolas was laughing gaily as he turned his face from the fire again. "Was that a challenge, by any chance?" he asked, cutting his friend of midsentence. " If it was, you could scarce have made it more irresistible if you had tried. I will not be allowed within hailing distance of Miss Cealia, you say, because I am the sort of rake and rogue from whom such a delicate aging bloom must be protected at all costs? And she would freeze me with a single glance from her severe, maidenly eye, would she? Because she is incorruptible and I am corruption incarnate? By Jove, I'll have her." He slapped the arm of his chair with one open palm.

Elladan flung back his head and shouted with laughter. " I smell a wager, " he said . " A hundred strands of mithril on it that you cannot do it, Greenleaf."

"And a hundred more of mine, " Elrohir added.

" She is very high in the instep, Greenleaf. Someone just last week, thought I can't for the life of me remember who, likened her to a marble statue, except that she came out the colder of the two.

" I might as well throw in my hundred too, " Lowlen said, " though I should know better where Greenleaf is concerned. It was Farwin, who is forever scouting out prospective new mothers for his orphaned brood. That's how I knew she was in town—I remember now. She told Farwin right straight out as soon as he braoched the subject of wedlock with her – when he was strolling with her on Royal Row one morning, if you can imagine it – that she has no intention of marrying anyone ever. He believed her. Apparently she is not the sort of lady whose word one doubts. That was when he made the remark about marble statues."

" And I am not." Legolas laughed again. " Well for three hundred strands of mithril and to annoy my father into the bargain I'll have to change her mind, won't I? Shall we say by the end of June, when I have to leave for Greenwood? A marriage before the end of June, that is. Between Miss Cealia and yours truly, of course."

"Less then six weeks? Done. " Lord Elladan got resolutely to his feet. " Now I am for my bed, while I can still find it and convey myself toward it unassisted. Come along, Lowlen, I'll steer you in the direction of yours at the same time. I would not begin the campaign for at least another week if I were you, Greenleaf. Any delicately nurtured female would swoon outright at the sight of that eye. That will give you approximately five weeks." The thought amused him considerably.

" A marriage to Miss Cealia by the last day of June, then." Elrohir said, summing up the wager as he joined his friends on their way out of the room. " It cannot be done, Greenleaf. Not even by you – especially not by you. This will be the easiest hundred strands of mithril I have made this year. But of course you will try."

"Of course" Legolas grinned at his friends. " And I will succeed. With what event shall I begin the campaign? What is happening a week or so from now?"

" A ball in honor of our sister, Arwen's birth all those milennia ago." Lord Elladan said after a moment consideration. " It is always the grand squeeze o the season. Everybody attends it, even though Arwen shall not yet again. Miss Cealia may well not, though Greenleaf. I have not seen her at any festivities – or any other entertainment for that matter. Not that I would recognize her if I saw her, of course, but someone would surely have pointed her out. She is still news."

" Arwen's ball." Legolas said, hoisting himself out of his chair in order to see his friends on their way. " I must find out if she will be there. Is she a beauty, by the way? Or is she an antidote?"

" Now that, " Elladan said firmly, " you must discover for yourself, Greenleaf. It will serve you right if she resembles an orc."


	4. At First Sight Chapter 4

Just a quick note, I really appreciate the reviews, and commentary. I've had a few comments disagreeing with how I am characterizing Legolas, I'd just like to offer a bit of an explanation as to why I am characterizing him as I am.

Tolkien, doesn't offer a lot of information of Legolas before he joins the Fellowship, nor does he go into great detail about his personality, or past experience. We don't know very much about him, other than he is an elven warrior. If you read the books you will notice you rarely see reference to him as a Prince, but it is there.

Let alone, after the fellowship and the War of the Ring all we really know is that he travels with Gimli, sets up his colony, and eventually sails to Valinor. 

I've taken the creative liberty into making him into the person I've written him as, because, well, war changes a person. He may have been a quiet, respectable elf in the books and the movies while he was with the Fellowship, but after fighting a war such as the the war of the Ring, would he not be altered?

I've treated, and worked with men who have come back from over seas duties with the Canadian Military, who have seen things, mass graves, death, destruction. Who have seen there own comrades killed, there friends killed before there eyes. In our world, they sometimes develop drinking problems, drug abuse problems. Various mental inhibitions. 

I think, in further chapters, people will come to understand more in dept the way I've decided to portray him. Its part of the story. So please, stick with me on this. I hope you like it, if not, please let me know.

Thanks.

Cealia arrived at the ball the following week in company with the Lord and Lady of Erwenor. After much initial resistance, she had agreed to attend even though she was fully aware that almost the whole of the beau monde would be present. Or perhaps it was because of that fact. She had made her decision to go for sheer pride's sake.

She was in Imladris during the season, and she was a member of the nobility. If she maintained her decision to live a retired life as Erial's companion, she might give the lasting impression that she was afraid to appear in public, that she was afraid of being laughed at, scorned, shunned as a poor rejected bride. She was indeed afraid, mortally so but above all else she had been raised to be a lady. And ladies did not allow fear to master them. Ladies did not abjure society merely because they were embarrassed and unhappy, merely because they felt unattractive and unwanted. Ladies did not give in to self-pity.

And so she had taken her courage in both hands and agreed to appear before the others on one of there favorite playgrounds – a Rivendell ballroom during the Season. She would go and hold her head high and confront the demons that had shadowed her ever since that most dreadful of all mornings in the village square. She would remain in Imladris until after Erial's confinement – Erials husband had thought it best they remain in Imladris near the best healers. After the confinement she had decided she would do what she had decided she really wanted to do. She would take her modest fortune and set up her own establishment, perhaps in Lothlorien, or Southern Greenwood, and she would live a quiet, retired life with a small circle of select friends. She would endure this ball, because when she did, no one was going to be able to call her a coward.

Soon they were at the entrance of the last homely home. Cealia could see that every window was ablaze with candlelight. Light spilled out from the double doors, which stood open, and illumined the red carpet that had been rolled down the steps and across the pathway. Even above the chatter around her, she could hear the festive sound of voices raised in greeting and laughter.

It was a nerve-wracking moment and made her understand fully how much she had changed in the fourteen months since her wedding eve ball Then she had felt very comfortably ensconced in her own milieu, perfectly at ease, perfectly assured of her own worth and her own place in the ranks of the beau monde. It was time she took that place again, not as Oropeis prospective bride and Lady, it was true, but she was the Honorable Cealia of Eurevnor. She raised her chin, an unconsciously arrogant gesture that masked her desire to jump from a bridge, or run and run until the ball, Imladris, and her very self were far behind.

And then it was their turn to alight. The Lord of Erwenor led her toward the staircase and the slow-moving queue of guests descending it. She drew a few deep, steadying breaths and resisted the urge to look at things rather than people. How many of the guests on the stairs, and how many guests in the ballroom above, had been at her wedding and witnessed her humiliation?

The answer was, of course, a significant number of them. But a lifetime of training can be a marvelous thing, Cealia soon discovered. It took her up the stairs, along the receiving line, and into the ballroom, which was already crowded with people who for the moment had nothing better to do than watch and comment upon the arrival of fellow guests.

She tried to concentrate upon the magnificence of the ballroom, which was lit by hundreds of candles set in three great crystal chandeliers overhead and in numerous wall sconces, and upon the sumptuous floral arrangements that filled the room with their delicate pastel shades and their perfume. And she tried – with some success – to look calmly about her, making eye contact with numerous other guests, inclining her head politely to those she recognized.

But it was her own family who killed any remote chance that she might enjoy the evening – killed it by kindness. Almost before Cealia was fully inside the ballroom, still on the Lord of Erwenors arm, her cousin from Lothlorien came along, all gracious condescension, a thin, reedy young elf in tow, and made the introductions. Sir Ellareil earnestly solicited the hand of Miss Cealia for the second set (dancing). Soon after her cousin returned with yet another young elf who had apparently conceived a burning desire to reserve the third set with Miss Cealia.

It seemed that her family, concerned that she might be a wallflower at her first ball in over a year, had spend the few days since she had agreed to attend lining up prospective partners for her – and prospective suitors too?

Just a little over a year ago she had danced at her wedding eve ball, secure in her own attractiveness, the cynosure of all eyes, the admired and envied bride of the Lord Oropeis. Tonight she was an aging, faded beauty, unable to attract her own partners, in dire danger of declining into a permanent irrevocable spinsterhood. Or so her family made her feel.

Cealia felt the depth of humiliations. Even the lord of Erwenors offer to escort her to the ball was – well, it was just kindness.

Cealia smiled her unconsciously arrogant smile and plied her fan with slow grace.

When Legolas and Lowlen arrived, the ball had been in progress for some time. But it was a clear, moonlit evening, unseasonably warm for the middle of May, and the front doors were still open wide. The merry noises of conversation and laughter spilled outside from the hall and stairs. The sound of a minstrel playing a vigorous melody wafted down from the ballroom above.

"A squeeze indeed." Legolas said, handing his cloak and silk hat to a liveried, bewigged footman and looking about the entrance to the hall with open interest. "Do you suppose the ballroom is as crowded, Lowlen?"

"Sure to be. More so, in fact." His friend relinquished his own cloak and hat and checked the immaculate folds of his neckcloth. "We had better go and find out."

Legolas nodded affably to a few acquaintances, mostly male, as they ascended the stairs This was the first ball he had attended since returning from Gondor. He could not even remember quite how long ago that had been. He had had invitations to several in Imladris, of course. His wilder exploits might have caused the highest sticklers to raise disapproving eyebrows and the most conscientious parents of young ladies to gather them more protectively to the family bosom, but he was after all Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen, heir to the throne. And this was the Season, the great marriage mart, when everyone of any consequence at all was invited almost everywhere.

" You are quite sure she is going to be here this evening?" he asked as they reached the top of the stairs and turned in the direction of the ballroom. The crowd became denser and there was a noticeable swell in the noise level. Legolas was aware of increased heat and the heavy scents of a thousand flowers mingled with the expensive perfumes worn by guests.

"As sure as I can be." Lowlen paused in the doorway of the ballroom and gazed unhurriedly about the milling crowds. "Erwenor said she was coming, and he ought to know, she is staying with him and his wife. Ahh." He raised his quizzing glass to his eye.

" You have seen her?" Legolas asked.

He might have been feeling self-conscious since this was his first appearance in years at a grand event, and there was no doubt that he was attracting considerable attention. A number of those not dancing were looking quite pointedly his way. Lorgnettes and quizzing glasses were raised to inquisitive eye. Heads were moving closer to other heads as confidences were exchanged. More than a few young ladies were stealing covert glances his way, especially those who had been apprised of his identity – the shocking, forbidden Prince of Eryn Lasgalen! But Legolas had never been much concerned with what others thought or said of him and tonight was no different.

Lowlen continued his unhaste perusal of the room and its occupants even as the set came to an end and the dancers moved off the floor to further crowd the sidelines.

" Elerin pointed her out to me in the park just three or four mornings ago," Lowlen said. " I am quite certain I will recognize her again."

"But you were not presented," Legolas said, "so you cannot introduce me to her."

"I would not make matters that easy for you anyways," his friend assured him. "I have a wager to win, if you will remember. Ah, there she is. Just being escorted back to the Lord Erwenor . Oh, hard lines, old chap. Her family is hovering over her. She is quite hedged about with formidable gaolers." He grinned.

Legolas followed the direction of his friends gaze. He knew both Erwenor and most of her family, and soon picked them out in the crowd some distance away. The older couple with them had to have been other relatives of hers, and the lady standing in the middle of two gentlemen had to be the one he had come to meet. His future bride. Legolas raised his glass to his eye again.

She was on the tall side, and slender, he could see, but not without pleasing feminine curves. He would wager that beneath the flowing skirt and train of her high-waisted gown her legs were long and slim. She had a graceful bearing, with the sort of arch to her spine that invited a guiding male hand to nestle against the back of her waist. Her dark hair was glossy in the light of candles. It was dressed high on her head, held there with jeweled combs, and fell about her neck and temples in soft curls. Her face was oval with high cheekbones and straight nose and large eyes – he could not see their color from where he stood. She was elegantly and fashionably dressed in a shimmering satin gown of deep violet, which she word with silver gloves and slipped and a pale violet fan.

She was nothing short of a beauty. Legolas's lips pursed in a silent whistle.

She was conversing with her companions, but she was fanning herself and looking about at the same time. For a few moments Legolas was pleasantly surprised by the smile on her face. It gave the lie, seemingly, to the notion that she was cold as a marble statue. But the expression, he noticed as he kept watching, did not once change as she continued to converse and look about. Then it struck him that perhaps it was not so much a smile as a haughty, condescending look of contempt for all those lesser mortals within orbit.

" A diamond of the first water, " he murmured lowering his glass.

"Indeed." Lowlen agreed. "And an impregnable fortress if I ever saw one, Greenleaf. She looks as if she considers anything short of royalty quite unworthy of her notice." He obviously found the thought amusing.

"But then," Legolas said, looking about for their host, who was by happy chance making his way towards them, a smile of welcome, and cheekiness upon his face. " I always did have a weakness for impregnable fortresses, Lowlen. And for other impossible challenges."

I apologise for how long it has taken me to update. Its been a hectic week and a half. I hope you all have a happy, healthy, and save christmas, and a wonderful New Year!


	5. The Dance Chapter 5

She regarded him with large, dark-lashed violet eyes, the exact shade of her gown – surely the most beautiful feature in an extraordinarily beautifuul face. Quite a perfect knockout in fact.

But it was a face he had surely seen before, Legolas thought – and recently too. For a moment the exact occasion eluded him. But then he remembered last week's fight and the embrace with the milkmaid. When he had looked up after kissing her, he had found himself locking eyes with a shocked beauty – clearly not of the milkmaid class—some distance away and wishing fleetingly and naughtily that it was she who was caught within his embrace. But before he had been able to either grin or to wink at her, she had whipped her head about to present the back of an elegant bonnet to his gaze. When he had looked for her, a short while later, she had disapppeared among the trees and flowers.

He had not thought of her since – until now.

Legolas executed his most elegant bow.

Cealia felt a shock of recognition the moment she set eyes on him, even though he looked very different tonight – he was clothed from the neck down. He was dressed with impecable elegance, in fact, in a black, form-fitting evening tunic, cream colored breeches and an embroidered waistcoat. 

He was not outstandingly handsome. And he was no more than two or three inches taller than she, Cealia was surprised to discover. Yet there was an aura of confident vitality about him that gave the illusion of extraordinarily attractive good looks. His face was tanned and good humored and his gray eyes smiled with some inner light.

He was the sort of man whose acquaintance she should avoid at all costs, Cealia thought in the few seconds that elapsed upon his introduction, while he bowed and she curtsied. Even if she had not been a witness to his unseemly behavior in the park she surely would have sensed the indefinable air of raw masculinity that he somehow exuded. There was something very different indeed about him from the iminently respectable parade of gentlemen her family had been presenting to her thus far this evening. She felt an unexpected wave of amusement as she realized that her aunt and uncle and cousins were bringing their attention back to her and looking concerned—as if she were a green girl who was quite incapable of taking care of herself. Her cousin in law was appraching from a short distance away with a portly, earnest-looking young man – as if she were a dull, aging creature quite without the charms to attract any gentleman who was not coerced.

Prince Legolas had not been coerced..

"My Lord," she murmured.

"Miss Cealia? Charmed." The smile lurking in his eyes spread to the rest of his face to reveal very white teeth and laugh lines at the outer corners of his eyes. Cealia revised her first impression that he was not particularly handsome. "I begged for the introduction since I simply had to get close enough to discover if your gown really does match your eyes. It does."

Cealia fanned her cheeks slowly – the ballroom was surely overwarm even though both sets of windows leading out onto the balcony on the other side of the ballroom were wide open. Did he expect her to blush and simple at such blatant gallantry – when she had heard very different words on his lips last week? _Come on, you buggers. _

Her cousin was purposely clearing his throat.

"May I hope you are free to dance the next set with me, Miss Cealia?" Prince Legolas asked.

" I was about to escort my cousin to the refreshment room, " he said smoothly but with a firm edge of dismissal in his tone. He offered his arm for her hand. " Miss Cealia is thirsty and needs a rest from dancing. Cealia?"

But Legolas did not look away from her. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly while laughter danced in his eyes. He awaited an answer from her own lips. No true gentleman would have done so. And there was no necessity for her to reply when her cousin had done so for her. She had merely to place her hand on his arm, smile disdainfully, and walk off. It was quite unexceptionable way in which to deal with unmannerly pretension. But she did none of those things.

__

Prince Legolas had not been coerced. He had complimented her eyes, however foolish the flattery. And he was undeniably attractive.

" Thank you, cousin, " she heard herself saying, " But perhaps I have the energy to dance one more set before taking refreshments."

She stepped forward, set her hand on the Prince's sleeve, and allowed him to lead her onto the open space of the dance floor. Would she have done so if her cousin had not spoken to protect her? Or if the rest of the family had not been bringing her other partners? She did not know. But she did realize suddenly, now that it was too late to change her mind, that the next set was to be a waltz – the intimate dance, still considered slightly scandalous by the highest sticklers that she had once considered wondrously romantic. But that had been when she had danced it with her fiance at her wedding eve ball. And never before since.

"Such a grave look, " the Prince murmured as she turned to face him. " Are you tired? Would you prefer after all that I escort you to the refreshment room?"

" No. Thank you." It was strange how such a small rebellion had lifted her spirits. And she was actually glad that the dance was to be a waltz. Perhaps she could lay to rest more than a few ghosts tonight.

The orchestra began playing the opening bars. Cealia raised her left hand to his shoulder and set her other hand in his. She could feel his right hand come firmly to rest against the arch of her back. His height made their positioning seem more intimate then it felt with the taller ex fiance. She could not easily avoid gazing into his face. She could not avoid feeling his intense physical presence. She could feel the warm strength of both his hands. She could smell the subtle musk of his scent. She drew a slow breath and looked into his eyes.

They smiled warmly, knowingly back into her own – as if he felt her discomfort and was amused by it. A dangerous man indeed, she thought. She had never been comfortable with such men. She had avoided them all her life.

He led her into the waltz.

For a while the bitter memories of her wedding eve ball and the day that had followed threatened to overwhelm her. She calmed herself by deliberately counting her steps and concentrating on the rhythm of the music and the movement of her feet. But it did not take long to realize that she was partnered by a man who was an accomplished dancer. It was easy – it felt almost like second nature – to fit her steps to his lead and to follow the graceful, twirling pattern he set about the perimeter of the ballroom floor. It was easy to feel comfortable with his height, to appreciate the fact that she could look over his shoulder and see her surroundings.

She had not enjoyed the evening so far – and that was an understatement. But she had consoled herself with the knowledge that her appearance at such a squeeze had served a useful function. Now, she suddenly unexpectedly, she was enjoying herself. The lavish floral displays and the gowns of the other lady guests all merged into a glorious kaleidoscope of color. The candles in the chandeliers became swirling bands of light. And there was something undeniably exhilarating about waltzing with a man who not only knew the steps but also surely felt the magic of the dance as she did.

But that thought brought Cealia firmly back to reality after several minutes. She was dancing about the Royal ballroom in the arms of a stranger whom she had first seen just a week ago in shocking, scandalous circumstances. Her cousin had tried to prevent her from dancing with him this evening. Was the Prince not respectable, then, despite his title and his presence at the ball? Had her first instinct about him been correct? Was he a rake?

Part of her did not care, was even surprisingly titillated by the possibility, in fact. But it was a part of herself with which she was thoroughly unfamiliar, a part of herself that must be reined in.

" Do you attend many balls, my lord?" She concentrated her mind upon making polite conversation and setting some sort of safe social distance between them. " I must confess this is my first this year."

" No, I do not, " he replied. " And yes, I know."

She was indignant at the brevity of his answer. Did he know nothing of polite conversation? And then she was struck by its oddity. What did he mean – _yes, I know. _If he did not attend many balls himself, how did he know that she had attended none?

"It is a grand squeeze, " she said trying again, clinging to the cliché.

"The flowers and other decorations are both lovely and tasteful, " she said laboring onward. "Do you not agree, my lord?"

"I have not looked to see, but I will take your word for it."

He was _flirting_ with her, she realized in sudden shock. He was implying that he had eyes for no one but her. And indeed, he was matching actions to implications. She felt an uncomfortable and unfamiliar rush of physical awareness – and then indignation again.

" Now it is your turn to choose a topic of conversation," she said, her voice deliberately disdainful to mask her discomfort.

He laughed softly. " A man does not need to converse when he is dancing with a beautiful woman," he said. " He can be content merely to feel. To indulge all his five senses to the full. Conversation is a mere distraction."

It was not just the outrageous words that made her heart beat faster. It was the way they were spoken. Softly. In a low, velvet voice that wrapped itself about her as if she were somehow naked to its touch. As if the two of them were alone together in the ballroom – or perhaps somewhere altogether more private.

And then suddenly they were alone and in relative darkness. She had not noticed that they were dancing close to the windows until he had twirled her right through them and they were alone – or almost so—on the balcony beyond the candlelight.

Cealia was shocked to the depths of her soul.

"And light can be a distraction too, " he said, tightening his hand on her waist so that for a moment she became even more aware of his nearness and feared that her bosom would brush against his chest. His head dipped closer to her own as he spoke so that she felt the warmth of his breath kiss her cheek. " As can crowds of people."

How dare he! She had been quite right to suspect…

No gentleman…

But he had not stopped dancing, and with one more twirl they were back in the ballroom, having entered it through the other window less than a minute after leaving it. The withering set-down that was forming on her lips died unspoken as she met his laughing eyes and was once more caught up in the magic of the dance with a virile, attractive partner. Her little rebellion was proving undeniably enjoyable, she admitted ruefully to herself. He was a practiced charmer, of course. She was not the sort of person with whom men flirted. She never had been even when she had been young and happy.

Now for the first time in her life she was being flirted with. And it felt rather pleasant – provided she did not for a moment allow herself to be beguiled by it.

She did not attempt any further conversation. Neither did he.

When the waltz was over, Prince Legolas Greenleaf offered his arm to escort her back to her own party.

" I will not suggest leading you to the refreshment room, Miss Cealia." He said, the laughter in his voice now as well as his eyes., " even though I daresay you are very thirsty by now. Your family would not approve. They can scarce wait for you to return to their midst so that they can inform you that you have just risked your reputation by waltzing with Arda's most notorious rakehell."

"And have I?" she asked him.

" Waltzed with a rakehell? Oh, undoubtedly, " he murmured.

"Thank you, my lord," she said politely when he had returned her to her family. 

"The pleasure was all mine, Miss Cealia." He told her, and before she could realize his intent, he had possessed himself of the hand she had just removed from his sleeve and raised it to his lips. Her hand was gloved, but even so the gesture seemed starkly, shockingly intimate. She resisted the urge to snatch her hand away as if it had been scalded and so draw unwelcome attention to herself. There was nothing so very improper about such a gesture after all.

And then he was gone – not just from her side, but from the ballroom itself. She watched him go with considerable relief – and with a strange, unwilling awareness that the rest of the evening was going to seem very flat indeed.

Perhaps even the rest of her life, she thought with uncharacteristic hyperbole.

Arda = Middle Earth. 

--- Thanks to all my Reviewers. I appreciate you letting me know what you think. 

A note for Farflung – thank you very much for your vote of confidence J 

Thank you, once again for the reviews J 

Happy New Year J 


	6. The Finer Points of Etiquette Chapter 6

Despite the lateness of her return home from the ball, Cealia was up at her usual time the next morning to accompany Erial on her daily walk. The air was brisk and chill, though it promised fair for later in the day.

"Exercise does feel good," she said as they approached the house on their return. " I feel remarkably fit despite growing ungainliness, and I am quite sure it is the walking and fresh air that does it, despite _his _anxieties."

Marriage suited Erial, Cealia reflected. She had wed for the first time just seven months before. Pregnancy suited her too. There was a new glow about her.

The footman who opened the door to their knock bowed deferentially as he stood aside to allow them in. " A bouquet has been delivered for Miss Cealia, your grace." He said. " It is in the salon."

"For me?" Cealia asked in some astonishment.

But Erial was laughing as she took Cealia's arm and turned her in the direction of the salon, which led off the hall. "A bouquet the morning after a ball?" she said. "Goodness me, Cealia, you have a beau."

"Nonsense!" Cealia winced. "I daresay it is from Lord Orophin, of Lothlorien. He danced with me twice last evening and led me in to supper. But I did try not to encourage him. How very embarassing."

"A gentleman's admiration need never embarrass you Cealia." Erial said. " Even if you cannot return it."

Cealia bit her lip when she entered the salon and saw the handsome bouquet of at least two dozen rosebuds amid lavish sprays of fern, already arranged in a crystal vase. She crossed the room and picked up the card that was propped against the vase. She hoped fervently he had not made a cake of himself with extravagant sentiments.

"They are quite lovely," Erial said from behind her. " Roses must have been difficult to find this early in the year. And exorbitantly expensive, I daresay. Poor Lord Orophin. He is so very earnest and worthy." But there was a tremor of laughter in her voice.

"Alas," the writing on the card said, " I could find no violets to do justice to your eyes." The signature was scrawled in a bold, careless hand. 'Greenleaf'

His laughing blue eyes, his devil-may-care smile, his slender grace, his male vitality, the indefinable air of danger that clung about him – Cealia had seen them all behind her closed eyelids as she had tried to fall asleep after the ball. And she had pictured the same man half-naked in his skin-tight breeches, uttering shocking profanities. And holding a young woman in his arms and kissed her with obvious enthusiasm.

"The flowers are not from Lord Orophin," she said. "They are from Prince Greenleaf. I waltzed with him last evening."

Lady Erial looked over her shoulder at the card. "Oh, goodness," she said gaily, " he is smitten indeed Cealia. He has complimented your eyes. Who is he? The name is not so very familiar."

"He told me," Cealia said, replacing the card against the vase, "that he sought an introduction to me to discover if my gown matched my eyes in color. Have you ever heard anything more absurd?"

" He does not sound like the sort of gentleman that the _family_ would present to you. " Erial's voice still shook with amusement.

The door opened, the ducal butler bowed with such stiff hauteur that the uninitiated might have mistaken him for the lord of the home himself, and Legolas tossed his card onto the silver salver the man held.

"Prince Greenleaf to call upon Miss Cealia," he said and stepped boldly into the hall.

It was to be easier than he had expected. Perhaps so few visitors were turned away on these at-home days that it did not even occur to the butler to carry the card upstairs first to ascertain that the lady was willing to receive him. Or perhaps the butler recognized his name as the sender of roses this morning and assumed his visit in person would be welcome. Or perhaps it had not occurred to the lord of the manor to leave instructions that he was to be denied admittance if he called.

" Follow me, if you please, my Lord," the butler said with another bow before leading the way to the staircase.

The sound of voices engaged in polite conversation wafted from from the drawing room as soon as a footman opened the doors at their approach. The butler stepped into the doorway.

"Prince Greenleaf for Miss Cealia, your grace," he announced.

An unnatural silence fell as Legolas strode into the room. He recognized a few faces in one swift glance about the room. And he saw too that Cealia, seated in the middle of a group close to the window, was rising to her feet, a look of astonishment on her face. A handsome lady of regal bearing—despite the visible evidence that she was breeding—was hurrying toward him, her right hand outstretched, a smile of polite welcome on her face. Legolas bowed to her.

"Your grace," he said and took her offered hand in his.

"Prince Legolas. How delightful." If she was shocked at his appearance in her drawing room or chagrined with her butler for allowing him up without question, she was too well bred to show it.

"I have come to pay my respects to Miss Cealia. She was gracious enough to dance with last evening." Legolas explained. The room, he was aware, was half filled with visitors. Most of them were still gaping at him rather as if the butler had just committed the faux pas of ushering the chimney sweep into their presence. This moment, he suspected would be discussed with some relish in a few more drawing rooms before the afternoon was out.

Miss Cealia came toward him herself, then, and the Lady Erial returned her attention to her other guests. Those same guests had recovered their manners and were resuming their interrupted conversations.

"How kind of you to call my lord," she said. "Thank you for the roses. They are exquisite."

If the roses were in front of her face at that particular moment, he thought, they would surely freeze upon their stems, her gaze was so cold.

"It was not merely the reflection of your gown, then," he said softly, dipping his head a little closer to hers. "Today you wear green, but your eyes are still unmistakably violet." She looked very bit as lovely as she had last evening even though her dark, glossy hair was dressed with a great deal more simplicity today.

She showed not the slightest pleasure in the implied compliment.

"Do have a seat, my lord," she said with gracious condescension – a stranger would surely have mistaken her for the Lady of the house. She turned and indicated an empty chair in the midst of the crowd of young people among whom she had been sitting. " I shall fetch you a cup of tea."

When she took her place again, he noticed that she sat very straight, her spine not quite touching the back of her chair. She launched into conversation about music, and a spirited discussion of various composers and the relative merits of different solo musical instruments followed.

Legolas did not attempt to participate but amused himself by observing the other members of the group. His appearance had obviously discomposed several of them. Miss Cealia seemed the only one who was serenely unaware of his very existence. Legolas sipped his tea.

"Miss Cealia," he said at last, taking advantage of a brief lull in the conversation, "would you allow me the honor of driving you to the park in my curricle later this afternoon?"

He was gazing directly at her and so was fully aware of the momentary widening of her lovely eyes and parting of her lips. The next moment she was looking coolly back at him, her expression politely bland. He was sure she was about to refuse him. Perhaps he had proceeded to precipitously. How would he win his wager if she said no?

" Oh, I say," the skeletal, still unidentified young man, said indignantly, " I came to ask the same favor, Miss Cealia, but thought to do the correct thing and wait until I could speak privately with you when I took my leave. I was here before the Prince." He added feebly.

Legolas raised his eyebrows. " I do beg your pardon, " he said. " Did I do the incorrect thing? Having spent so much of time as of late away from society, I must confess myself unsure of the finer points of etiquette." With his eyes he laughed at Miss Cealia.

"Oh, I say!" the anonymous gentleman sounded distinctly uncomfortable." I did not mean to imply—"

"I believe," one said smooth, " it might have been for this afternoon that you and I made our appointment to drive to the library together, Cealia. You will refresh my memory if I am wrong."

Legolas continued to smile into Miss Cealia's violet eyes, which had not wavered from his own. There was not the faintest suggestion of an answering smile there.

She looked away, " No you are wrong," she said. "It was not for today. Thank you, my lord. That would be very pleasant."

He had the other members of the group to thank, of course, Legolas realized as he rose to take his leave. He was quite certain she had been going to refuse him until the other had rushed in so gallantly to rescue her from the horror of being obliged to drive out with a notorious rakehell. She might be cold and imperturbably self-contained, his intended bride, but she was not immune to a challenge.

It was an intriguing thought. 

"Until later, then, Miss Cealia," he said, bowing to her, nodding affably to the group at large, and then strolling across the room to take his leave.

He grinned as he ran down the steps outside the house a few minutes later and summoned his tiger, who was walking the horses about the square. Breaching the formidable defenses of Miss Cealia was going to be a challenge worthy of his best efforts. He must hope, perhaps, that all her relatives and friends would come to his assistance by persistently warning her against him and attempting to shield her from him – the idiots.

But for awhile later in the afternoon he would have her all to himself.

Hey everyone!

I am terribly sorry for how long it has taken me to update. It's been a hectic few weeks. I hope to make it up this week by updating, hopefully, atleast twice.

Thank you for the reviews!


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